


A Love That Was More Than Love

by MCRmyGeneral



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Awkward Adolescence, Awkward Conversations, I apologize for the short chapters throughout, Jealous!Rick, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2428187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCRmyGeneral/pseuds/MCRmyGeneral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carl had a crush. Daryl could see it, plain as the nose on the boy's face. Though, the object of the kid's affection was the last person Daryl expected...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from 'Annabel Lee' by Edgar Allen Poe

He knew what it was. The kid was a little obvious, though not overly so. Still, Daryl knew what was going on. He might have been a redneck, but he wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind. Carl had a crush. Though, the object of his affection was what surprised Daryl the most. Beth, he figured at first. That was the most likely choice. Maggie was a close second. Not to disrespect what was so obviously Glenn’s, but Hershel sure made some beautiful daughters.

But no, it wasn’t either of the Greene girls. It wasn’t a girl at all. Glenn, then. Glenn was smart, a hell of a lot smarter than anyone cared to notice early on. Plus, he was funny, for a Korean, and, if Daryl was admitting it only to himself, Glenn wasn’t exactly bad-looking. Not that Daryl would say he’d ever been _attracted_ to the man, because he wasn’t.

Daryl was straight, in every sense of the word. Hell, he’d lost his virginity when he was 13 to Merle’s girlfriend (and gotten one hell of a beating for it), and knew since then that girls were the only thing that got him hard.

Not that he had any problem with guys that liked guys. For a Son of the South, Daryl was surprisingly open-minded. People loved who they loved, and Daryl found out that you didn’t choose who you fell for when he’d fallen in love with his Sophomore Chemistry teacher, Mrs. Maynard. Flirty glances and suggestive touches were enough to drive the then 15-year-old crazy, and their steamy, short-lived, yet mind-blowingly kinky relationship had left Daryl a social outcast and Kayleigh with a ‘Sex Offender’ sticker on her record.

It didn’t take long for Daryl to realize that the ever-present blush on Carl's cheeks and the blinding smiles were only present when the self-proclaimed ‘King of The Crossbow’(actually, it wasn’t self-proclaimed at all. Carol and Glenn started calling Daryl that to tease him, and though he protested and constantly asked them to stop, he kinda sorta liked it) was in the room.

Over time, as Carl got older, he also got more and more confident.


	2. Chapter 2

“How many tattoos do you have?” Carl asked abruptly one day when he, Rick and Daryl were all tending to the crops together. Daryl and Rick had long ago abandoned their shirts, and Rick had moments earlier excused himself to brush the horses.

“What?” Daryl asked, startled.

“Tattoos. I've seen the one on your back, and your arm,” Carl said, pointing to the dragon on Daryl’s bicep, “I wonder all the time if you have any more, and,” He licked his lips, “Where they might be.”

Part of Daryl wanted to laugh. The kid had just blatantly admitted to checking Daryl out, though not in as many words. And in close to as many words (and a simple, unintentionally sexy flick of his tongue) admitted to spending a fair amount of time thinking about what lurked under the man’s deliciously fitted jeans.

Daryl got down on one knee to pull his pant leg up, revealing four flaming Aces inked on his left calf.

“Cool!” Carl said, abandoning his hoe to kneel beside the man. Without hesitation or permission, he reached out to run the calloused tips of his fingers over the playing cards.

“I always liked tattoos,” Carl said softly, “When I told my mom I wanted one for my 18th birthday, she grounded me,” He laughed.

Daryl chuckled, too. “Jailhouse tattoos aren’t that hard. I’ve done my fair share. Tell you what, bud. Find me a sewing kit and some black ink pens, and I’ll give you your first one.”

Carl's eyes lit up like the sky on New Year’s Eve. “Really?”

“Yep,” Daryl nodded, while at the same time, Rick boomed an ‘Over my dead body!’ from behind the duo.

Carl shot to his feet, but Daryl didn’t move. Rick didn’t scare him, and he wasn’t gonna give him the satisfaction of thinking he did.

“If you want a tattoo,” Rick said, setting a hand on Carl's shoulder, “You’re gonna get it in a sterile shop by a licensed professional.”

“Dad, there aren’t any sterile shops left.”

“What a shame. Looks like there will be no ink for you,” Rick teased, pushing Carl in the direction of the pig pen, “Go feed the bacon.”

Carl sighed and rolled his eyes, but he obeyed his father, looking back only to smile at Daryl.

“What the fuck was that?” Rick asked Daryl without looking at him, his voice with a severe edge.

“What the fuck was what? Me talking about tattooing him?” He scoffed, “I was just humoring the kid. I wouldn’t take a needle anywhere _near_ him. I wouldn’t wanna risk infection, especially in this environment. Relax,” Daryl said, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t tell me to relax!”

Daryl dropped the hoe he was holding. “What the fuck is your problem, Rick?”

Rick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. I, I'm just tired.”

Daryl willed himself to calm down. Getting yelled at pissed him off more than anything in the world, but Rick was relaxing now, so he could, too.

“I understand. Go inside, get some water and cool down. I’ll finish this.”

Rick nodded curtly, grabbing his shirt off the nearby bench and heading back toward the prison main building.

Daryl watched his retreating back and blew out a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Norman Reedus does not actually have a tattoo on his calf. I just needed him to for this scene.


	3. Chapter 3

Daryl grabbed a plate and sat down at the usual spot he occupied, right at the end of the table the Original Group always sat at. He hated being boxed in, so he sat at the very edge of the table, where he always had one side free.

Just as he suspected, as soon as Carl got his food, he scanned the room, smiling when he saw Daryl. The boy tried to control himself as he made his way over, though Daryl could see the effort it took to keep his legs at a normal pace.

The boy slid sinuously into the seat beside Daryl, brushing his leg against the older man’s. Whether accidental or premeditated, Daryl couldn’t tell.

“How was your watch?” Carl asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Daryl shrugged. He wasn’t sure how to go about this. He cared for Carl, would do anything to protect him and keep him safe. He’d more or less adopted Rick’s family as his own. He didn’t want to lead the boy on, but he didn’t want to hurt him, either.

“It was good. Nice and uneventful, just the way we like it.”

Carl flashed him his blindingly bright smile, and Daryl couldn’t help thinking that Carl was growing up. He had to be almost 15 by now, and while under normal circumstances, he'd be lanky and awkward with wiry muscles due to puberty, years of running and fighting and months of tending to the fields had refined those muscles. He was lean and hard and a little cut, as Daryl had seen from the few times Carl had shed his shirt alongside his father when working the crops. The small, barely-there muscles had grown to what were pretty sizeable arms and nicely defined abs. His body was well on its way from kid to adult, but his face was still mostly boy. His cheeks were still round, though less than before. He still had that childish, mischievous glint in his eye. However, when the kid’s confidence surfaced, _man_ , could he smolder. He could bring nearly all the Woodbury girls to their knees (Daryl briefly wondered if he ever had), and he even caught some of the younger guys giving the boy fleeting, self-questioning looks.

Daryl was straight, he wasn’t blind. He could see the attractive, dare he say, sexy man that Carl was quickly becoming. Daryl had no problem with homosexuals, and if he found himself attracted to the boy, so what? It just meant that he’d learned something new about himself. But he didn’t. He felt nothing but familial love for Carl when he looked at him. Unfortunately, the Woodbury girls couldn’t say the same. If only they knew their efforts were in vain, for Carl's attention was focused squarely and securely on the one man that could never, would never return his feelings. He saw Carl as the baby brother he never had, not as anything romantic.

Daryl briefly wondered how to act around Carl now that he knew. But he quickly squashed that down. This was Carl. He’d known the kid for years. He wasn’t gonna be any flirtier or more reserved than he had been.

“How was kitchen duty?” He asked the boy, who rolled his eyes in response.

“Fucking boring.”

Instantaneously, both men realized what had slipped from Carl's mouth, and they both turned wide eyes on Rick, who’d been engrossed in a discussion with Maggie and Glenn, who were certain there was a Walmart Supercenter nearby. Rick _had_ been invested in the conversation, but had just that second decided to open his ears to the conversations around him.

He perked up when he heard the swear from his boy’s lips, turning his attention to the pair with an eyebrow cocked in admonishment. Both boys looked guilty; Carl for swearing, and Daryl for being so loose with his own mouth around him.

Rick looked from his son to his son’s dinner mate, slightly irritated eyes turning straight up cross. They froze, instant ice, and it made Daryl shiver.

Rick scowled the entire way over to the washbasin, where he handed his plate to Mika and Lizzie, Carol’s apprentices of sorts, to wash. He scowled the entire way up the catwalk. He scowled as he made his way outside for some air.

Carl and Daryl shared identical looks of confusion and annoyance. Carl was annoyed that his father had dared to lay the blame for his swearing on Daryl, when he himself was no saint when it came to cursing. Plus, Carl had heard those words as far back as sixth grade, though admittedly not as often as he did from Daryl. If Carl was being honest, he’d picked up cursing when he started crushing on Daryl, thinking it would make the older man see him as more mature. But now, he swore just to swear. Sometimes the only word that correctly encompasses what you want to say is ‘fuck’.

Daryl was annoyed that Rick was still being salty towards him. He didn’t know what had Rick's panties in a twist, but he was _gonna_ find out.

Carl moved to stand, presumably to run after his father and demand to know what the fuck his problem was (in those words), but Daryl's warm hand on his bicep stopped him.

“Eat. Give him some time to collect his thoughts.”

The only reason Carl was anything next to compliant was because even though it wasn’t moving or touching him in the slightest sexual way, not even squeezing or rubbing, Daryl's hand, heavy on his arm was almost too much. Carl tried to will his growing erection down, choosing to follow Daryl's orders and eat. Maybe he’d calm down by the time he was done.


	4. Chapter 4

Thankfully, Rick wasn’t on watch that night. So when the cell block died down, hushed whispers and low moans (Daryl heard _way_ more than he ever wanted to, from couples and solo rooms) quieted, Daryl marched his way into Rick's cell, past the dark curtain that covered the bars. He wasn’t surprised to find the man lounging on the top bunk with a hardcover book propped up against his bent knees.

Rick was always the last to go to sleep, though Daryl wasn’t sure why. He was either just a restless guy, or it was the natural leader in him taking over, making sure everyone else was sound asleep before allowing himself any kind of relaxation. Either way, Daryl, from his makeshift bed on the catwalk, would always make a mental note of the last thing he saw before he fell asleep. And more often than not, it was the light filtering around the edges of the curtains to Rick's cell.

Rick looked up from his book and when he recognized the man in the dim candlelight, he scowled.

Daryl decided then and there that he really fucking hated that goddamn scowl.

“What do you want?”

“What’s up your ass?” Daryl answered Rick's question with his own question, neither of them in the mood for sugarcoating.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Rick sighed sarcastically, hopping down to the floor, “Maybe I'm a little worried about my son.”

“What about him?”

“About how suddenly, he doesn’t want to be around me anymore!” Rick near yelled, threatening to wake the entire cell block, and not giving a shit. “My boy, my flesh and blood, my greatest creation wants nothing to do with me anymore. He used to tend the crops with me, now he invites you. We used to eat together, and now he abandons me to sit by you. He's always trying to ditch me for you,” Rick finished quietly, suddenly feeling very small.

This was Shane all over again.

“Rick, it ain’t like that.”

“He’d rather be around you. He likes you better than me,” Rick whispered, hanging his head and feeling foolish. He was a 38 year old man that was completely hung up on the opinion of a 15 year old kid. How ridiculous was that? Except that kid was his only son, and had been one of his best friends since he was born.

“Rick,” Daryl began cautiously, not knowing if this would make Rick feel better or worse, but he had to try, “Carl doesn’t like me better. You're his old man, his dad. You were there for every scraped knee and bloody nose. You walked him to his first day of school and taught him to ride a bike and tie his shoes. Fuck, you ran three miles with him bleeding to death in your arms.”

Rick winced at the memory.

“That boy loves you more than anyone else in the world. He always will.”

Rick's face softened, looking marginally less pissed, but still mildly irritated.

“Thanks,” He muttered to the floor.

“The reason Carl's been hanging on me so much lately is… well… because he's got a crush on me.”

Rick's eyes widened. “A crush? On _you_?” He chuckled.

Daryl laughed at the seemingly rude response, knowing that Rick didn’t mean it as an insult. He was just caught off-guard.

“Think about it; He’s always near me, he's always trying to get my attention, he's always smiling at me. You were a kid once.”

As Rick thought on that, his smile gradually fell. He sunk down to sit on the edge of his bunk. “Aw, fuck. You're right, aren’t you?”

Daryl smiled sadly. “I know. Trust me; I’d rather it be Beth, too. But it looks like your little man is… playing for the other team, I guess.”

Rick sighed. “Of course he is.”

“Please tell me you're not angry or upset. He can’t help it, Rick.”

“Jesus, Daryl, I know. I'm not angry, I just…” He blew out a breath, “I guess I just always imagined him growing up and finding a girl he liked and I don’t know, continuing on the population, or something. He can’t do that if he’s gay.”

“Well, look at it this way; you’ll never have to worry about him fooling around with a girl and getting her pregnant. You'll never have to worry about him fucking up and ending up with a child he won’t want. That’s every father’s worst nightmare, right?”

Rick chuckled quietly. “I guess not _everything’s_ changed.” He stood and finally,finally, all annoyance was gone from his face, and Daryl was glad. He didn’t like it when Rick was mad at him. It felt wrong.

“I guess I should have a talk with him.”

As much as Daryl loved the thought of Rick having to bear the weight of breaking it to Carl, he knew that was the coward’s way out. The Dixons were a lot of things, but cowards, they were not.

“I think,” Daryl began hesitantly, “I think you should let me talk to him. Obviously, if he hasn’t come to you yet, he's not ready for you to know. If _you_ bring it up to _him_ , I think you're gonna scare him, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You should wait for him to come to you. I think _I_ need to be the one to tell him that nothing can happen between us. Plus, there are times when you just need a friend, not a parent.”

“You’re okay with having that conversation?”

Daryl nodded. “I’ll be okay. I won’t hurt him; I promise. You and Lori ever talk to him about homosexuality?”

Rick nodded. “He’s got a gay uncle. He understands it.”

The two stood in awkward silence for a moment before Daryl turned to leave.

“Night, Rick.”

“Thanks, Daryl.”


	5. Chapter 5

At breakfast the next morning, Carl took his usual seat, practically planted in Daryl's back pocket.

“How’d you sleep?” Daryl asked.

Carl smiled. “Pretty good, actually.” And he had. He'd worn himself out with two orgasms, cumming twice with Daryl's name on his lips. Shortly after, he'd drifted to sleep, his mind wandering back to think about what lied underneath the man’s worn, dirty jeans. Though Carl wasn’t about to volunteer that information.

“How’d _you_ sleep?”

“Alright,” Daryl answered, though he hadn’t. His mind couldn’t rest long enough to let sleep in, what with it reminding him every three seconds about what the morning held. In the end, he'd fallen asleep just as the sun was rising.

“All right! Chore time! Up and at ‘em!” Carol called to the group, clapping her hands to get everybody’s attention. She walked up and down the aisle between the two tables. “Come on, quit dragging your feet! _Go out and greet the day_!” She sang.

Carl smiled at Carol’s antics before turning his smile on Daryl. Daryl shook his head, laughing at the woman. How she could be so damn chipper so early in the morning, he’d never know.

Beth walked toward the boys, balancing a bowl of oatmeal, a bowl of applesauce, and a beautiful, bright-eyed baby in her hands.

Carl jumped out of his seat to help her, taking both bowls and setting them on the table opposite Daryl.

“And they say chivalry’s dead,” Beth chuckled, sitting down.

“Late start?” Daryl asked, finishing his own oatmeal.

“She just looked too darn cute. I couldn’t wake her.”

“Boy, will your own kids have you wrapped around their fingers,” Daryl muttered.

Carl laughed and plucked the baby from Beth’s hands, tickling her and cooing at her.

Daryl felt his heart swell watching Carl play with Judith. He smiled softly.

“If you’re gonna hold her, you’re gonna feed her,” Beth told Carl, holding the applesauce out to him.

“She doesn’t want the crap,” Carl laughed, grabbing the spoon from his own bowl of oatmeal and holding it up to Judith, who immediately opened her mouth. She cleaned the spoon eagerly.

“Are you frickin’ kidding me?” Beth asked, her jaw hanging slack in annoyance. “Do you have any idea how much I have to fight her to get that damn applesauce down?”

“That’s cuz apparently, it’s crap,” Daryl laughed. The laugh stopped abruptly when Beth turned narrowed, irritated eyes on him.

“That’s yummy, huh, Jude?” Carl cooed, still feeding his baby sister. “That’s cuz Carol is so darn good at her job.”

“It’s the spice from the cinnamon,” Carol threw in, walking up to the group, “When Sophia was a baby, she wouldn’t eat _anything_ without pepper,” She explained, shaking the cinnamon into the applesauce in front of Beth twice. “Babies have extremely sensitive taste buds, so the little spice totally changes the flavor.

Beth mixed the applesauce and held a small spoonful out to Judith, who swallowed it hungrily, then opened her mouth for more.

“I’ll be damned,” Beth said, scooping up more for the girl, who let out a piercing laugh.

“Boys, chores. Now,” Carol instructed, smiling at Beth before walking away.

Fuck. Daryl had forgotten about his impending conversation for a second. A very fleeting second. Now it was present and obtrusive in the front of his mind. It was almost tangible.

“Here, give her to me,” Beth said to Carl, holding her hands out for him to relinquish the baby. “And go do your chores, before Carol bites your heads off.”

Carl laughed and kissed Judith's forehead. “I’ll see you later, Jude. Love you.”

Daryl stood as Carl started walking away. “Bud?”

Carl whipped around faster than he would’ve for anyone else, even his father. And that left a hunk of guilt to settle in Daryl's stomach.

“Come take watch with me. Your old man can handle agriculture himself today.”

“Okay,” Carl said with a smile, pausing to wait for Daryl.

Daryl kissed the top of Judith's head as he walked past. “Be good, Ass-Kicker.”

“Daryl Dixon!” Carol scolded from behind the wash basin that served at the dish washing station.

“I’ll stop calling her that when she starts talking. Until then, she’s my Little Ass-Kicker,” he threw over his shoulder to Carol with a smirk. He and Carl caught a ‘He better not be shocked if Rick smacks him when the first words out of Judith's mouth are Ass-Kicker’ as they walked out of the room, both chuckling.


	6. Chapter 6

“Glenn!”

Glenn looked over to see Daryl walking up to the guard tower.

“Go get some food!”

Glenn nodded, though Daryl probably couldn’t see it from the ground, and began his descent down the stairs.

“How goes it?” Daryl asked when Glenn met them at the door.

Glenn shrugged. “Quiet. Heard some coyotes.”

“Cool!”

It was just then that Glenn noticed their third party.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be taking care of the garden?”

“Nope,” Carl grinned triumphantly. “I’ve been promoted!”

“Not quite yet, little man. This is just a trial run.”

Carl's face fell a little, though he perked back up almost immediately. Not wanting to show his age by pouting. Men didn’t pout; boys did.

“There’s a bit of a build-up at the South fence. It’s nothing serious yet, but it’s definitely something to keep an eye on.”

“Can do,” Daryl said, clapping Glenn on the shoulder. “Go get some food and some rest.”

“All right, I’ll see you later. Good luck!” He called to Carl over his shoulder as he jogged back to the main building, his stomach aching for food and his lips aching for Maggie. Carl smiled after him.

“After you,” Daryl said, opening the door for Carl. They boy’s eyes twinkled at his courtesy.

_Well, damn_ , Daryl thought, _Can’t even have manners around the kid without him thinking I’m coming on to him._

He followed Carl up the four tall flights of stairs, his stomach knotting at what was to come. He really, really didn’t want to do this. The kid would be devastated. But it had to happen. It would be even worse to just ignore it, and let Carl think Daryl was flirting with him. The man was stuck between one of his best friends and a hard place.

The two sat in mostly comfortable silence for a few hours. Occasionally, Carl would ask Daryl questions about tracking and sometimes Daryl would spit out tracking, driving, hunting, or other miscellaneous tips he’d picked up throughout his life. Occasionally, their hands would brush, or their knees would bump, or Carl would nudge Daryl's foot with his own. Though the touches seemed accidental at first, Carl got greedy and they got more frequent, and then Daryl noticed that after each one, the kid would smirk to himself in silent glee. Sneaky, cheeky bastard.

Daryl didn’t have time to think too much on it, however. He was, unfortunately, still stuck on what to say, how to approach the subject.

He finally decided to nut up when the sun was at the highest point in the sky. Sasha would be coming to relieve them soon.

“Carl, we need to talk.”

Carl turned his wide, doe eyes on Daryl, and his mouth went dry. This was gonna hurt. For both of them.

“You’re getting older now. You’re what, almost 15?”

Carl nodded. “Yeah. In a few weeks, I think.”

“I’m sure you’ve… started noticing things. About you and other people.”

Carl's eyes widened. “Um, don’t you think this is a talk I should have with my father?” He all but squeaked out, his smoky confidence from the day before blown away like a frigid breath on a winter morning.

It was times like these when Daryl could see how young the kid really was.

He couldn’t help himself, he chuckled. “No, bud. This isn’t the sex talk. You're smart enough that I'm pretty sure you already know how everything works, without me having to explain it to you.” Horror flashed through Daryl's mind, then. “Wait, you do know how everything works, right?”

Now it was Carl's turn to laugh. “Yeah, we learned about it in school. Plus… I saw Glenn and Maggie once, on accident.”

Daryl bent over, howling with laughter, which put a smile on Carl's face. The older man stood a moment later, wiping his eyes. “A word of advice, bud. Don’t _ever_ tell anyone that. Maggie would murder you.”

“Duly noted,” Carl said with a smile.

“No,” Daryl continued, his smile (and Carl’s, after a moment) fading with every word. “This is about something else.”

“What?”

Daryl sighed. “Your crush on me.”

In .04 nanoseconds, Carl went from his usual slightly-sunburned shade of pale to the most vibrant, fiery shade of crimson Daryl had ever seen on a person.

“What? What are you talking about? I Don’t- I mean, I didn’t- I- I just, I-I,” The boy stammered, flustered beyond words.

“Stop,” Daryl said softly. Before you hurt yourself was the part he managed to keep in his head. No point in adding insult to injury, “I can see it, bud. I know what a crush looks like. You're never more than ten feet from me; you're always staring and smiling at me. I know you like me, Carl, so just admit it.”

Carl took a few deep breaths before turning and sprinting toward the door. Fortunately though, Daryl had been anticipating it, and he was a great deal faster than Carl. He whipped around to close and block the door before Carl could blink.

When Carl saw that he was cornered, he turned and ran back to the railing, slamming into it with force that made Daryl wince, and was sure to leave three long, bar-shaped bruises on his chest, stomach and thighs.

“Carl,” Daryl said softly, walking toward him.

“Don’t,” Carl said, his voice thick, like he was about to cry. And he was. He was so close to breaking down and bawling in embarrassment. Then Daryl would _really_ see him as a kid.

“Carl, bud, calm down.”

He did, thankfully. Daryl could see Carl's shoulders relax a little, just a little at Daryl's pet name for him.

“I’m not mad,” Daryl insisted, stepping to his previous position, right next to, but not touching the boy. He tried to meet his eyes, but Carl just stared out over the yard.

He sighed. “Please listen to me, bud. I'm _not_ mad. I could never be mad at you at all, let alone be mad at you for having a crush. Crushes happen. I'm curious, though…why me?”

“You’re smart,” Carl whispered after a moment, still looking down at the expanse of ground beneath them. “You're smart and awesome at tracking and you're funny. You’ve never told me that I was too young to do something, even if it was dangerous. Sometimes you shut people out, but not me. Even if I have to prod a little, you always tell me what's going on; even if you know I'm not gonna get it. And if I don’t get it, you always explain it to me. I don’t feel childish around you. You trust me to protect and take care of myself, but I know that if there’s ever a time when I can’t, if I ever need you, you'll be there.”

Daryl felt warmth spread across his own face at Carl's words. Nobody had ever spoken about him like that before. Before the infection hit, words spoken about Daryl Dixon were filthy cusses and death threats and challenges to see if he was really as tough as the people around town said. It took him a while to pinpoint exactly what was in Carl's voice, but once he did, it was obvious. It was love. Real, honest love and adoration.

“Carl-“

“Plus… I can’t help it. You're sexy.”

Daryl laughed and the blush on Carl's cheeks, the blush that was just starting to fade flared even hotter than it had before.

“Sorry,” Daryl chuckled. “I don’t mean to laugh. I've just never been called sexy before.”

Carl said nothing.

“Let’s address the first issue, here.”

“Oh, God,” Carl murmured, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment.

“Is it just me?”

Carl shrugged. “For a while, I thought I liked Beth. But I don’t think I do. Don’t get me wrong, she’s pretty. And nice and sweet and I like the way her voice sounds when she’s singing to Jude. But she doesn’t make me… feel that way. Not the way you do,” he confessed, still speaking quietly.

“So…?”

“Guys,” Carl said after a long moment of what Daryl guessed was inner deliberation. “I guess I only like guys.”

“You guess?”

“I'm not sure. When I think about it, I've only ever liked you. I might like girls, too.”

“That’s called bisexual. Did you know that?”

Carl shook his head. “I thought there was just gay and straight.”

“Bisexuals like both. You don’t need to be 100% sure right now. You're young; you’ve got time to figure it out. Now, you know there’s nothing wrong with liking guys, right?”

Carl scoffed. “Yeah, until you fall in love with your father’s best friend.”

“You’re not in love with me.”

“You don’t know how I feel,” Carl snapped.

“You’re right. I'm sorry,” Daryl said after a moment. He was sure he was right, but he decided to humor the already-angry boy.

“Look, I know that you can’t control who you fall for,” He said to the top of Rick’s/Carl’s hat, because Carl was still too embarrassed to look up and meet Daryl's eyes, “But there are so many things working against you, here, bud. First off, your father would murder me. Literally chop me into Daryl Bits and feed me to the walkers if I so much as laid a finger on you. Don’t get me wrong, your old man don’t usually scare me, but I seen how far he’ll go when it comes to you and our baby girl, how feral he gets, and _that_ scares me. I'm not gonna offer myself up to face that hurricane anytime soon. Then there’s the age gap. I’m sorry, kid-“

“I’m not a fucking _kid_ ,” Carl spat, finally looking up to meet Daryl's eyes before looking out to scan the perimeter.

Daryl's hand flashed out and smacked Carl in the back of the head, tilting his hat down over his eyes. “Don’t be using cuss words like that. Your old man's gonna hear, and he’s gonna think you got them from _me_.”

“I did,” Carl said with a slight smirk, readjusting his hat.

Daryl smacked him again.

“As far as your old man’s concerned, I don’t do nothing but praise the Lord around you, got that?”

Carl scowled (the same exact fucking scowl as Rick's, much to Daryl's _extreme_ annoyance), but nodded, fixing his hat again.

“Fuck, I know you're not a kid, bud,” Daryl sighed, returning to the terribly awkward, daunting, yet necessary task of rejecting the poor boy, but trying to do it gently. “You ain’t been a kid for a long time. You help run this prison. You help put food on everyone’s plates. You look after the kids, your dad, Little Ass-Kicker. You're just as man as I am. But you gotta remember, I got a good twenty years on you, bud. Plus, you were twelve when I met you, and that little boy is always what I’ll see when I look at you. Sorry if that pisses you off.”

After a tense moment, Carl shrugged and sighed. “I guess I understand.”

“Now for the last and possibly most important part; I don’t like guys.”

Carl threw his hands up and groaned. “Why the hell couldn’t you have started with that? This could’ve been quick and painless, and a lot less awkward!” he laughed, rolling his eyes.

Daryl smiled. “Sorry, bud. And mind your cussin’.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Carl muttered, rolling his eyes again.

Daryl took a step closer, draping his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “You didn’t really think anything was gonna happen with you and me, did you?”

“No,” Carl admitted, “But I hoped.”

“I don’t look at you like that, Carl. And I know this is gonna hurt, but I never will.”

Carl did flinch a little at that, and it broke Daryl's heart. But he continued. “I _do_ love you, Carl. I love you, and I love your father, and I love our baby girl. You're one of my best friends, and I promise, I will die to keep the three of you safe. You're family. So don’t feel weird about liking me, and don’t think it’s gonna change things, with the exception of some light teasing, cuz I gotta tease you,” Daryl smiled, poking Carl in the side and making him squirm. “Don’t think I'm gonna look at you differently. You're still my right-hand _man_ , right?” He asked, emphasizing ‘man’.

Carl looked up to the tan man and smiled. “Absolutely. I love you, too, Daryl.”

In one of those rare, un-Daryl like moments, he pulled Carl to him and hugged him tightly, almost threatening to break him in half.

And though Carl felt nothing sexual, nothing but platonic father-son or brotherly love behind that hug, he grew warm, flushing with adoration, pride and raw, real love. All the way from head to toe.


End file.
